In early spring you watch me do the planting.

You issue directions though the patio window

and I arrange the pots and beds just so,

my colour-blind eyes trusting your judgement.

 

In summer we sit on our garden bench

admiring the roses and peonies,

though by now you can no longer smell

the sweet scent of jasmine and mimosa.

 

In autumn I rake crumpled leaves as you watch

squirrels hide their nuts below fading blooms.

We leave the berries to the birds, offload apples

on the stream of nurses who come and go.

 

In winter your chrysanthemums wither,

bare branches reach up to snow-heavy skies.

I watch the white blanket fall as you lay in bed

by the window, your cold hand getting colder.

 

Another spring, and with the first tulip

once more I find myself following

your carefully thought out directions.

I scatter your ashes amid new bulbs.  

updated by @americymru: 01/05/17 07:34:02PM